


Two Blocks Down, Turn to the Left

by Basingstoke



Category: Daredevil (Movieverse), Spider-Man (Movieverse)
Genre: Crossover, First Meetings, First Time, M/M, Teamwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-12
Updated: 2004-08-12
Packaged: 2017-10-02 15:48:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basingstoke/pseuds/Basingstoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We had a team-up. You were great."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Blocks Down, Turn to the Left

Peter woke up with hands on his mask. He grabbed for the strange hands instinctively and yanked whoever it was off-balance. "Hey!"

His eyes were blurred--he needed his glasses, except that he didn't _wear_ his glasses any more--so probably he had a head injury. Great. All he could see was that there was some guy standing over him, haloed by the fluorescent in the top of the little room he seemed to be stuck in. Peter blinked a few times, hard, and his vision cleared just as the other guy planted a boot in his chest and pulled away. Peter bounced to his feet and edged backwards up the wall, waiting for the guy to come at him again, but he just bent over and picked up his gloves.

The other guy was in a mask, too, a really pretty cool red leather half-face mask. His suit didn't look itchy, either. For one thing, he had actual pants instead of tights.

"You must be Spider-Man. I've read about you."

"Then you've got lousy taste in newspapers," Peter said.

"You should see the ones that write about me."

"Yeah? Let me guess--you're Bat Boy."

The guy frowned at him. No sense of humor. "I'm Daredevil."

No bells were ringing, except the ones in his ears. Peter rubbed his temples and those calmed down as well. "Okay," Peter said.

"I took down the Kingpin."

"I thought the Kingpin was still running things." That's what Ben Urich said, anyway. In his articles. To Peter he mostly just offered various bribes to meet Spider-Man.

If he started offering cash money, Peter was probably going to take him up on it.

But Daredevil looked _really_ annoyed then. "Well, I broke his knees and sent him to jail, so he's running it from the infirmary on Ryker's Island, then."

Great. Locked in a room with a grumpy knee-breaking mask-wearing freak. He crawled up to the ceiling and looked at Daredevil upside down. "Where the heck are we?"

"A vault." Daredevil hit the wall with his stick.

And it certainly looked like the inside of a bank vault. Smooth metal walls, big door, heavy welded seaming.

Peter crawled around the ceiling, looking for a weak point. "So how did we get inside a bank vault?"

"Eddie the Lizard locked us in here."

"Who's Eddie the Lizard?"

"The guy who owns the suitcase of uncut heroin you dumped in the river." Daredevil hit another part of the wall with his stick.

He dumped a suitcase of uncut heroin in the river? He kept from saying that out loud, though--it was about time he got some credit with this guy. "Uh. Yeah! So he's the guy, huh?"

"Don't even try pretending you know who he is." Daredevil hit the door with his stick and pressed his cheek to the metal. "He's deciding how to kill us."

"You can hear him?" Peter asked.

"If you shut up."

"Mutant, huh?" He'd read about them in the Bugle--not that he could _trust_ what he read, but it was a start. This guy didn't look mutated, but he had an awful lot of his body covered.

Okay, less than Peter did. But still.

"Shut up," Daredevil said.

"You shut up." He didn't like this one bit, not one tiny bit, and--Peter's internal alarm went off as Daredevil threw his stick directly at Peter's head. Didn't even look, just threw.

Peter ducked, of course, and shot webbing at Daredevil's hand. Daredevil grabbed his webbing--how did he do that? He shouldn't be able to do that--and yanked him off the ceiling into a headlock. "_Shush_," Daredevil growled into his ear.

"You--" Peter started to shout and Daredevil covered his mouth with his other hand.

"_Listening_," Daredevil whispered, his ear pressed to the door.

Oh.

Shit.

Peter was sometimes pretty dumb for a smart guy.

Daredevil let go of Peter's mouth after a minute. "The easiest way to kill us would be just to leave us in here. It's airtight."

"Oh." Peter suddenly felt faint.

"But they're not going to do that," Daredevil said. "Eddie the Lizard wants the big kill. He's getting his favorite gun."

"How much air do we have?" Peter wriggled under Daredevil's elbow and Daredevil held him tighter.

"Enough," Daredevil said. "Calm down."

"I'm calm."

"You're panicking."

"Calm," Peter said, trying to catch his breath.

"Your heart rate is up over 100 beats per minute. Be a hero, kid."

"Hey! I don't need a lecture." Okay. Maybe he _was_ panicking. In through the nose, out through the mouth--Daredevil smelled sweet, was he wearing _cologne_?--nose, mouth, nose, mouth, and suddenly his chest expanded all the way and he could relax.

Daredevil let him go. "How good are you?" Daredevil asked.

"You mean--fighting?"

"Yeah."

"Pretty good, I guess." He took some self-defense classes and used the school gym when he had time--at _least_ once a month.

"In two minutes we find out." Daredevil jumped to his feet and Peter looked up at the ceiling.

"Give me your hand," Peter said. Daredevil frowned at him. "We can get the drop on them!"

"You're right." Daredevil gave him his hand and Peter swung them both up to the ceiling of the vault, clinging by his hands and knees with Daredevil clinging to his stomach in a way that was really kind of suggestive if he were to stop and think about it, which he was _not_ because the door was busting open and it was time to shoot some webbing at some guns.

That always worked. His trusty wrist-webs gummed the works up something fierce. Daredevil, meanwhile, was flying through the air and kicking guys in the head. Peter _so _had to take those martial arts classes just as soon as he could afford them.

Finally, there were a bunch of unconscious guys on the floor and some guns scattered in random corners of the... Peter looked around. The amazing, huge, luxurious, incomprehensibly expensive, twentieth-floor apartment. Peter thought of his new post-Harry digs and winced. "_Look_ at this place. Crime pays," he said.

"No. It doesn't." Daredevil rolled his shoulder until it popped. "Find a phone and call 911. There's enough drugs and weaponry in here to get them put away for a long time."

"Uh, sure. Just let me find some lights--" There was just the tiny fluorescent in the vault, not nearly enough to see by. Peter could have sworn there was a lamp or something in the main room--the big lizard and his boys wouldn't have been standing around in the dark, right?

"No lights! Christ! No wonder you're all over the papers," Daredevil snapped.

"It's the middle of the night!"

"New York never sleeps. And it's 10:45," Daredevil said.

Peter rolled his eyes and felt his way to the wall. By the time he was grabbing wallpaper, though, Daredevil already had a phone and was shouting: "Help! Help! Fire!" Then he kicked over a chair, or possibly tripped over it. Peter sort of hoped for the latter.

Then they both went out the window to the roof of the opposite building and watched the cops come. "Fast in this neighborhood," Peter commented.

Daredevil made a dirty noise in his throat. "Not like _my_ neighborhood," he said.

"Really? You look," Peter gestured, "pretty money."

"Army surplus."

"What--really?"

"Mecca for the crime-fighter on a budget."

"Huh. I should look into that." Peter watched the fire engines wail down the street and the firefighters and cops pour into the building.

And now that he had a chance to think--Daredevil was the first guy in this line of work he'd met, and frankly, he was curious. You heard about other guys like him--the Fantastic Four, of course, some kind of flying robot man, Captain America back in the day--but it was surprisingly hard to actually _find_ them and ask how they _did_ it. "So... you want to get a slice?" Peter asked.

Daredevil leaned on the ledge, looking over the street, and didn't say anything for a while. Then: "Come on back to my place. We need to talk."

"Cool," Peter said.

* * *

"This is my house."

"This is--"

"Hell's Kitchen." Daredevil triggered something and the skylight opened; Daredevil dropped inside.

"Yeah," Peter said, and stepped over to the skylight. "Um."

"Just land on the carpet, not the coffee table."

"Lights?"

There was a pause, then a dim light came on inside, just enough for Peter to _see_ the carpet and the coffee table. He landed without breaking anything and Daredevil hit a switch to close the skylight again.

The light was a single bulb in a fixture in the ceiling in the living room. The other bulb was burnt out. There wasn't one lamp anywhere else. This guy _really_ liked the dark.

And his kitchen was the size of Peter's pad. Peter was really getting sick of this particular theme.

Daredevil dropped his gloves on the table. "You eat meat, don't you?"

"Uh--yeah?"

"I never assume any more." Daredevil opened the fridge and took out cold cuts, bread, and mustard. Peter sat at the table and watched as he assembled turkey sandwiches without turning on a light. The no-light thing was starting to get weird.

Then Daredevil opened the fridge again to put stuff back and Peter caught a glimpse of a label on the mustard bottle--one of those label-maker things with the raised letters, only instead of letters, there were dots. Braille. "You're blind!" Peter shouted.

Daredevil smiled a tiny little smile.

"That's why you never turn on the lights! You're blind! You fight crime and you're blind?"

"Yeah," Daredevil said. He set the sandwiches on the table.

"That's amazing. Seriously, how did you do all that? You kicked the crap out of those guys and swung us over here--wait, you're not pretending to be blind, are you? Like a secret identity?" Peter eyed him intently, wondering if he was maybe bitten by a mutant bat or cat that let him see in the dark. Except no, he was sure he was right. The guy hardly ever looked at him, plus he could hear things right through the vault wall, plus the Braille... "No. You're really blind and you have super-hearing. That's your power, right?"

Daredevil sat down. "You got it."

"Man. That blows my _mind_." And now he was gushing and it was time to _stop_ already. Peter pulled off his mask and tried the sandwich.

A little light on the mustard, he decided, but great turkey. Beside him, Daredevil paused and rapped his knuckles against the table, then grinned and took a huge bite of his sandwich.

Peter froze. "What did you do?"

"You figure it out, bright boy," Daredevil said.

Peter stared at him. He checked out the table, but it was just a normal wooden Ikea table, as far as he could tell. But--bats. Sonar. Dammit. "You just looked at my face."

Daredevil shrugged with one shoulder. "You took off your mask."

"That's... cheating." Peter ate his sandwich angrily.

"Besides, I mostly recognize people by smell," Daredevil said, and pushed back his own mask. Underneath, he was just a twenty-something guy with sweaty dark hair who Peter didn't recognize.

It really wasn't a big deal, was it?

"Peter Parker, college student by day, Amazing Spider-Man nights, weekends, and lunch breaks," Peter said, holding out his hand.

Daredevil shook his hand with only a little hesitation. "Nice to meet you."

Peter waited for a second. "You're totally not going to tell me who you are, are you?"

Daredevil grinned.

Peter rubbed his forehead. He wasn't making a great impression here. "I guess, um--have you been doing this long?"

"A few years longer than you."

"Are there a lot of guys doing this stuff in New York? I mean, I never even heard of you."

Daredevil shrugged with one shoulder. "Iron Man is around. Iron Fist and Power Man do jobs for hire. Black Widow keeps an apartment here. The Fantastic Four. Doctor Strange in the Village."

"Wow."

"Rumor has it that the Fantastic Four want to meet you."

"_Me_?"

"Rumor has it."

The Fantastic Four. No _way_. No way! "What would I have to say to the Fantastic Four?" His voice broke in the middle of the sentence like an exceptionally dorky exclamation point.

"You could start with what you think you're doing."

Daredevil wasn't looking at him--facing him, whatever--but Peter could feel his attention on him like a laser. "I... make the city a better place," Peter said.

"Why? And why the mask?"

"Because I can, so I have to. And the mask--you wear a mask. You know why we wear masks." Peter gestured helplessly.

"I know why I wear a mask. I don't know why you wear a mask. Why aren't you a cop if you want to make things better?"

"Because they look at you funny if you shoot webs out of your wrists in basic training," Peter said, "and I don't really have a hat face."

"No?" Daredevil exhaled sharply; it was almost like a laugh. "How do you do it?"

"I was bitten by a spider and it gave me special powers," Peter said, realizing for the first time how crazy that sounded.

"No. How do you get up every day and put on the costume and go out to get beat up by idiots with low foreheads and bad upbringings?"

"Because of the people those idiots will hurt if I don't," Peter said without hesitation.

Daredevil leaned back in his chair. "That's a good answer," he said. He paused for a second before he said, "But they get hurt anyway."

"I know I can't fix everything, but I think it's worth it to try. I think--" If even one person had been there--if _he_ had been there--his uncle would be alive. "It's worth it."

Daredevil looked toward Peter. The half-light from the living room showed him the milky blueness of the man's eyes. "How old are you?"

"Nineteen," Peter said, "um, next month."

"Do you mind if I look?" Daredevil asked, raising a hand to Peter's cheek.

"Look?" Oh. Look with his hands. He'd seen that in movies. "Oh. Um. Sure."

Daredevil touched his fingertips to each of Peter's cheeks. Peter was never happier in his _life_ that the spider-bite cleared up his acne--oh, except that one time MJ kissed him, in the alley, in the rain. That had been... pretty awesome.

Daredevil ran his fingers up the side of Peter's nose and around his eyes. "Here's the thing," he said. "This is a scam."

"Scam?"

"I identify people by their smell. The sound of their voices. The weight of their footsteps. I don't know faces--I haven't since I was a kid. This is a scam. It's something you do when you want to get your hands on someone." And then--holy cow--he ran his hands into Peter's hair and leaned forward into a kiss.

An actual kiss. Mouths. Breathing through his nose. A feeling like he got hit by feather-covered lightning from his chin all the way to his big toes and then back up into his dick. Oh, man.

"I thought you'd be up for this," Daredevil murmured into Peter's mouth. "You smelled ripe," and he reached down and held Peter's dick in his hand.

"Ah!" Peter said, and "ah!" when his hips bounced up, and "AH!" when Daredevil squeezed his balls in the palm of his hand.

Daredevil shoved him back onto the table and tugged down his tights, kissing him fiercely all the while. Peter kissed back, wishing to hell that he'd had more practice at this, noticing that Daredevil had a broken tooth, realizing that he was actually going to have sex for the first time.

In his fantasies, it was always MJ. When he masturbated--which he didn't do very often, what with one thing and another--it was to a shuffle of his favorite pictures from free sites on the Internet. More realistically, he'd asked out a girl in his oceanography class and they'd gone out for a few months before he stood her up too many times and she dumped him.

He'd never actually pictured a guy. Definitely not an older, blind, broken-toothed, super-powered, fellow hero guy. But doing it felt like the best damn thing in the world so far. The _best_.

Daredevil pushed up, panting heavily. He ran his hand down Peter's hip and up his thigh and Peter wrapped his leg around Daredevil's waist. Daredevil kissed his throat. "Work with me," he murmured, and then he lifted Peter's other leg up around his hip and laced his fingers with Peter's and humped him across the table.

He was going to have bruises on his _ass_. And on his stomach. Sex bruises on his stomach, holy cow, and maybe marks on his throat, and also possibly a heart attack because his heart was pounding so fast he felt like he couldn't breathe.

He tried to say that, but it came out, "Enh!"

Daredevil's hips jabbed into the muscles of Peter's thighs every time he thrust against Peter's belly. More bruises--and God, they felt good. Daredevil's breath came faster and harder against Peter's neck until he bared his teeth and shot onto Peter's stomach.

And then he crawled off Peter and dropped back into his chair, which felt like losing a layer of skin.

And then he pulled Peter across the table by his ankles, put Peter's feet on his shoulders, and swallowed Peter's dick.

Peter grabbed the table with both hands and did his best not to explode in big mushy lumps all over the kitchen. He managed it for a few breaths before he had to scream and liquefy all over the varnished wood and the inside of Daredevil's mouth.

He was kind of surprised to open his eyes and find himself intact, alive, and staring at the kitchen ceiling. "Wow," he said.

"Yeah. That was all right," Daredevil replied. Peter's foot still rested on his shoulder and he was fingering his ankle idly.

"Wow," Peter said.

"Don't overstate it."

Peter closed his eyes.

"How is this job going for you?" Daredevil asked.

Peter stretched, feeling wiped. "You mean--Spider-Man?"

"What else?"

"Uh--it's fine. I saved a bunch of kids from a crazy man the other month." And said crazy man ended up dead, but that wasn't his fault. It really wasn't, no matter what Harry thought.

It wasn't. "I think I'm wanted for questioning by the police, but apart from that, it's cool," Peter said. He yawned.

"You have fun?"

"Yeah."

"Why do you do it?"

"Because... I have to. I have these powers, and... it's my responsibility to make things better. I have to. I said that already."

"I wanted to hear it again."

"We make things better," Peter repeated.

Daredevil sighed and shook Peter's knee slightly. "You're cute."

"That's what my aunt says," Peter replied, smiling at the ceiling.

"It'll pass."

And when Peter looked up, Daredevil wasn't smiling at all.

THE END.

 

All comments are welcome.


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